


As light, so shadows

by ilianka_smoulinka_91



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Death, Drama, Emotional Healing, F/M, Friendship, Love, Tragedy, family trauma, mafia, narcissistic disorder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:46:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25584634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilianka_smoulinka_91/pseuds/ilianka_smoulinka_91
Summary: A secret that belongs to the past. Wealth, power, mafia. Eren Jaeger travels to capital city, not knowing that fate has sealed his ruin: a raven-haired woman with a sorrowful soul. An Ackerman. His salvation and his downfall.
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Sasha Blouse, Hange Zoë/Levi, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir, Mikasa Ackerman/Eren Yeager, Sasha Blouse/Nikolo
Comments: 19
Kudos: 63





	1. The die is cast

_**"These violent delights have violent ends**_  
 _ **And in their triump die, like fire and powder**_  
 _ **Which, as they kiss, consume"**_ \- William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet.

* * *

" _MEDICAL STUDENT EREN JAEGER IS REQUIRED AT HEADMASTER'S OFFICE. EREN JAEGER IS REQUIRED AT HEADMASTER'S OFFICE"._

A feminine voice resounds uninterruptedly through the loudspeakers in the east wing of the university campus, in the Immunology corridor. A 19 year-old man, with sharp eyes and a soft semblance, stands up from his chair and leaves the classroom. He walks calmly, with the curiosity of a child gleaming in his eyes, and as cautious as a man his age. Hands in his pockets, bag hanging from his shoulders and hair tied in a manbun; head without worries and his lighter inside his fist, waiting to lit the next cigarette of the day. He frowns, even when he's not mad, and his vocal chords draw the chorus of a Led Zeppelin's song in the form of a whistle. His physical appeal catches the eyes of two girls that walk next to him in the corridor, but he ignores them, focused on the place he must go to. The day seems to be perfect to go for a cheeseburger after class, or at least that's what he decides in less than a second. The next minute, his right foot crosses the doorstep at the Headmaster's, and the sunray that comes through the window dazzles him.

That's it.

It's right here when his life turns around. He can't foresee it. And it's such a violent twist, just as the crashing of waves against the seashore.

It's a phone call.

The phone goes to his hand and he answers.

" _Eren Jaeger?_ " a masculine voice asks from the other side of the line.

"It's me".

" _I'm Oluo Bozado, nurse at Shiganshina Hospital's Emergency Unit. Mrs. Carla Jaeger has been admitted here after suffering a car accident. I ask you to_ -

 _Beeeeeeeeeeep_.

Before the nurse can conclude his explanation, Eren gives the phone back to its place. Every movement is mechanic since the very moment he hears his mother's name until his eardrums notice the word "accident". He thanks the Headmaster's secretary as a mere reflex, as his feet make him walk out via memory muscle, too disturbed to give any response. However, his contorted features should have given the Headmaster some clues about his sudden departure.

With no time to think straight, he goes out of the building. His instinct guides him as some sort of invisible thread that shows the way to go. Nevertheless, he can't comprehend how he has made his way to the hospital, for everything he knows about himself is that he's about to ask for his mother at the reception.

"I'm Eren Jae-

The nurse in duty stops him from saying more, noticing his identity. She takes the phone, dials an extension and waits until another feminine voice answers.

"Doctor Brzenska, Mrs Jaeger's son is waiting at the reception" a pause "Yeah?" another pause "Fine. I'll tell him" the call ends "Doctor is on her way here" the nurse tells him. Eren is visibly anxious, but it doesn't take long until a middle-aged, ash-haired woman with glasses dressed in a lab coat appears.

"Is it you?" she asks the boy. He nods out of inertia, sensing that she is Dr. Brzenska "Wow. You are quite young"

Eren shakes his head in irritation.

"Doctor, I need no detours. Tell me how's my mom"

"Boy, she's out of danger. But now, join me to the cafeteria. There are a couple of things I'd like to talk to you about."

* * *

Eren does not understand.

Both the corridors of the Emergency Unit and the cafeteria of the building look like a pandemonium. People rush back and forth, others drink coffee in order to kill time, or simply stir anxiously awaiting news. Although it is spring, the gloomy sky and the cold air outside seem to be borrowed from a declining autumn. A side of the boy's brain wonders if this is what he really wants to do at the end of his medical degree: facing the stress of saving some lives and the frustration that comes with losing others; the busy existence of a doctor and the accompanying moral dilemmas. If he wants to be a hero, he must be prepared to face the chaos that such responsibility brings; He can't help but notice the chill running down his spine at the thought of it, and yet all that occupies in his mind at the moment is what comes out of Dr. Brzenska's mouth.

Carla was ran over by a supply truck that lost control of the steering wheel. The driver soon called an ambulance that took her to the nearest medical center, where she was now out of danger, except for a fracture to her right arm and a pavement wound to her face. However it is not this event the one that draws on Eren Jaeger's face the very specter of agony itself.

"Cancer?"

The word escapes his mouth like an unexpectedly bitter drink. His tongue is heavy, his lungs being loaded with dense oxygen that prevents him from breathing easily. How did it start? When? Why? His mother's newly discovered illness is drawn in his mind like a dense cloud that oppresses his lungs and blackens his future. Of all the people in the world, fate could not choose another victim of its whims. Eren's fists helplessly clench, and he decides to finish listening to the doctor's diagnosis.

"However," Brzenska continues, "I could say that your mother's accident today was a miracle, boy"

Eren is filled with outrage. How she dare to say that?

"What are you talking about?"

Dr. Brzenska laughs amid the gloom of the conversation, which for her interlocutor is outrageously scandalous.

"If that man hadn't run over your mother, we never would have discovered her cancer, Eren. Or maybe we would have, in a very advanced and deadly phase nevertheless. Carla's brain tumor is in its first phase and is still removable. All we need is her health insurance number and your authorization to carry out the surgery as soon as possible."

The woman in a lab coat smiles. Eren doesn't. He wishes he could feel as relaxed as the doctor is, if only it were that easy. If only his mother had health insurance, or the income to be able to authorize a Tumor removal. If only his father ... If only he had a father ... If only …

"She ... Does she know this already?"

The doctor nods at the question. He sighs.

"She also knows that you would find out."

"May I talk to her?" The boy asks, crestfallen. The doctor looks at her pulse watch for a few seconds and nods.

"Fine. You got fifteen minutes. Third floor, room four."

"Thank you."

That is all he answers.

No matter how much he wishes, he cannot see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Not yet.

* * *

His feet start getting heavy.

His sneakers crawl across the hallway, with the heaviness of a pair of anchors. The news he has just received meander through his mind like a column of smoke that filters through a tube, invading his brains, as for he has not yet been able to process it. The unstable gravity of the elevator that takes him to the third floor of the pavilion turns his stomach into a whirlpool and, although he doesn't notice it, the air that hits his face when the floodgates are opened relieves his insides.

His eyes seeking for room number four. But he also doesn't know how he gets here. Sometimes, his body moves by inertia, like an automaton. Somehow Eren goes on until he comes across the white door that leads to his mother.

Then his eyes find her. For the first time in many hours.

In his silent agony, Eren wonders what would become of him if he could never see her again. The simple idea is nightmarish, unforgivable, scandalous. Carla is everything he has and everything he loves. She is his life, She is the unconditional love embedded in a single being, dedicated only to him, to his well-being, to his safety. She is the personification of the Heaven's beauty and the Creator's deity and leniency. She is a pair of amber-colored orbs that look at him tenderly and gently rebuke him. She is the hands that have worked tirelessly to provide him with everything.

She is his mother.

A lump forms in his throat and he undoes it by swallowing. He needs to speak correctly.

"Mom?"

The brown-haired woman turns on her back so that she can look at her son. Despite the pain of her injuries, she greets him with a smile. She has a scratch on her cheek and a bandaged arm; but if she could see herself in a mirror, the only thing that would worry her would be that the doctors would see her hair a mess.

"My dear, you're here," the woman breathes, straightening up with great difficulty. But she is stubborn, and tries not to show her frailness. However, her child knows her well enough to know that she needs help.

"Yes, ma. I'm here."

As he talks, Eren offers his arm for her to lean on, watching the liquid dripping down the plastic tube into his mother's veins through the catheter. Then he kisses her forehead, discovering a few sneaky gray hairs in the woman's head.

"Isn't this your class time?" Carla looks worried. Eren takes a seat next to her.

"You're more important. How are you feeling?"

"Much better now that my baby is here," she warns, laughing. Her laugh is so contagious that the boy can't help but follow it, albeit very briefly. "When are you going to get me out of this place? I left many things unfinished at home."

"You won't get out of here until you get that surgery."

Carla inhales and exhales loudly.

"Eren," she calls him, and her face hardens, "that surgery will have to don't have money to pay for something so expensive …"

"Mom, I don't care. I'll do anything, anything, so you can have that surgery. I'll sell my scholarship, I'll work at night, I'll do whatever I-

"Eren, I don't want you to say that again. Is it crystal clear? Promise that you'll never, ever mention something like that regarding your scholarship."

"But, Mom-

"But? Don't you remember how much it took us to get here, Eren? Don't you remember my sacrifices to enroll you in a good school and all we prayed to Heavens for that scholarship to be given to you? Don't you remember how much you wanted to become a doctor and everything we did so that today you can be where you are? Listen to me, Eren Jaeger; listen to your mother carefully: you won't throw your future away for this. In no way. I won't allow it."

Eren clenches his fists. His mother can not reckon how desperate he is. He straightens, makes his way to the window, letting a gust of air appease him.

"I knew you'd say that. But I won't let you die, Carla. No way I'd do that."

"I'd die if it's my time to. But I won't let go to waste everything we've tried so hard to accomplish , Eren".

Silence settles over them like a gray cloud. Eren sighs, reflecting, thinking of soft ways to discuss with his mother without unsettling her more than she is. Bewildered, he turns his back on her; it's way easier to avoid her complaints if he's not looking her in the eye.

"I'll do whatever I have to do to save you", he declares, determined. "And you won't stop me, and I don't care if you're my mother. Stop thinking you can tell me what I must do, because I'm not a kid anymore; this time I have to think for the two of us. You've done enough, mom. Now, whatever happens, it's my turn."

Carla snorts sarcastically.

"And you think you are old enough to tell ME what to do?"

"I am, and I'll do it as long as I'm in charge of you".

"I'm not a child or an old lady"

"You're sick and you'll die if you don't get the tumor removed"

"Eren, you won't-

"This is not in question, mom. I'll get the money no matter what, and you'll get out of this."

"Eren! Why are you so stubborn? Can't you listen to me at least for once in your life? I don't want you to do that with your scholarship and I don't want you to quit school. It's my responsibility to get that money, not yours. And if you don't want me to get mad at you, then stop thinking nonsense right away."

This time, Eren turns around. He needs to look at her to say what he's about to say.

"Alright", he surrenders, hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed in his mother's, almost defiant. Carla knows well that this means no good. "Alright, mom. We'll do it your way. But it won't be you who gets the money we need."

"Oh? So, tell me, Mr. Responsible: where are we going to get it from?"

He fills his lungs with oxygen in a long breath. Inside his pocket, his fingers touch the lighter. Sunlight starts to decline, sunset leaking through the window glass and curtains.

"It's time for the Ackermans to pay the debt they have to you."

The door opens ajar, giving Carla no time to react. It's a nurse, coming to announce that the visit time has ended.

"You can come at nighttime to take care of her. But for now, we ask you to leave, Mr…"

"Jaeger", he states. His mother is speechless. A promise, a former debt connects her to those people that were once her friends. And she wonders how's that her son knows that story. Has he been digging into her hidden treasures? Has he read all those letters that belonged to her past and her deceased husband she has tried so zealously to hide? The Ackerman name is one that, certainly, her son shouldn't link to her past, and the incident has left her speechless.

"I'll be back later, mom", he says, kissing her forehead. In a second, his shape disappears behind the door and she loses sight of him beyond all the white shadows wandering in the corridor. When she calls his name, it's too late. Only the nurse can hear her.

Ackerman.

Carla's heart sinks at the memory. At the sound. At the name.

And at the same time, time whims start weaving her past with the cords of his future together, knitting the nets that will take her son to his own ruin. But nothing can stop Eren. Fate is written, and even though once she tried so hard to change it, life offers her nothing else than an emphatic refusal. There's nothing she can do, no matter how hard she tries, for the stars have spoken a long time before his birth.

The die is cast.


	2. An unexpected visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,  
> The instruments of darkness tell us truths,  
> Win us with honest trifles, to betray's   
> In deepest consequence — William Shakespeare, Macbeth.

It 's late at night.

The TV screen is on, lighting up the meeting room, whose thick curtains cover up all the windows, blocking the moonlight from entering the room. Kurt Ackerman smokes a ‘King of Denmark’ Havana cigar, sitting on the biggest couch while watching the nightly news.

Sometimes, he thinks of his daughter.

The cigar smoke he exhales escapes through the air vent in the ceiling and he inhales again, losing himself in the warm taste the Havana cigar has left in his throat. He closes his eyes and relaxes his body. His workday, as busy as always, has ended, but he doesn’t feel like going home.

He wonders why.

When was that he started spurning his own home? When was the last time he smelled the scent of a warm family dinner? The last time his lips tasted an affectionate kiss from his wife, or his cheeks the sweet caress of his daughter’s hands?

Kurt can’t remember.

It seems like a long time ago. Much more than what he can recall.

A long sigh interrupts his thoughts. His cigar starts to extinguish, and the 7 p.m. TV bulletin broadcasts some breaking news. Mr. Ackerman struggles not to sleep under the lethargy of the anchor’s voice.

“Uncle?”

This new sound makes him jump slightly, accompanied by a thud on the wood door to catch his eye. This new voice is familiar, pleasant, welcomed. Kurt’s eyes go to the doorstep, seeing the shape of an auburn-haired girl, asking with her movements if her presence is well received. Mr. Ackerman nods, waving to her so she comes in.

“I’m done with the reports and bill files”, she says, leaving on the big desk a briefcase full of sheets. Kurt nods again “I’m a little late, you know, I’m not good at numbers, but I can handle it”.

“Sasha”, he calls her sweetly, for the girl seems to be nervous “stop it. You shouldn’t stay here this late. You’re young, hang out with your friends and live your life. You have no need obliged to work as much as the others. Remember I’m your uncle, and those are the perks of being my niece”.

Sasha laughs shyly. She couldn't help but be surprised that a man as wealthy as Kurt Ackerman would have adopted her as his niece, simply due to the many years Mom and Dad have worked for him; way long before she could remember. However, she cannot help the smile that escapes her, since that man is one of the most admired by her in her whole life.

“I got it clear. But Dad won't accept that”

Kurt snorts a chuckle.

"Alexander is a grumpy old man. What are you doing standing there? Take a seat. Or are you in a hurry?”

"Oh no, no ... I was going to wait in the lobby for Nikolo to come and pick me up ..."

"And would it take him long?"

“I don’t know. I already called him but he won't pick up the phone”.

"Then I can take you home, or perhaps we can stay a little longer and order Italian food. What do you say about that?” Sasha's taste buds sing at the prospect. Kurt laughs at the sparkle in her eyes. "That's it," he pronounces in his laughter. "Italian food will be".

Sasha is the one who makes the order to the Italian restaurant nearby. Carbonara is what they will be tasting. While they wait, Mr. Ackerman finishes his cigar.

"You've seen the news?" He asks with his eyes towards the girl, who has taken a seat on the contrary side of the table.

"About what, Uncle?"

“President Reiss' eldest daughter was found with an overdose at a hotel party.”

"Frieda?"

“Yes”.

Sasha gasps, alarmed.

“She is too young…”

“She is. And of course, Reiss has made no comment about the situation. It must be a shame for him, especially after the scandal back when the media found out about his illegitimate daughter. What a family, am I right?”

“Oh, Dad says he's a hypocritical communist and that's why he didn't vote for him. And I happen to think the same… ”. Sasha puts her hand to her mouth in shock, abruptly interrupting her speech. “ I'm sorry. I might have spoken more than the appropriate”.

Kurt laughs again.

“Now that you mention it; your dad is right. I've already told him. But we can't discuss that with everyone, you know. So don't say it in public or you may get in trouble.”

“I know…”

“It’s a shame what happened to her…” Kurt says, and before he can add anything, the news goes on catching both their eyes. It’s a national outrage. The Reiss Family, belonging to the ancient eldian aristocracy and oligarchy, has given birth to a drug addict child. Unbelievable. Unforgivable. Such a calamity. Frieda Reiss, the first born and heiress to the family’s immense wealth: an addict, fatally destined to squander the wealths passed on to her by her forefathers. Her father, the recently elected president of the Paradi island, abstains himself from issuing statements. Embarrassment surpases the amount of love he has for his daughter; only a small, blonde girl that walks next to him in front of the stifling media makes her way through the president bodyguards to yell at the world that everything, entirely, is her father’s fault.

Historia Reiss is her name.

And the media, of course, won’t stop talking about the accusation for days. It’s the first time the illegitimate daughter of the president speaks in front of the cameras. However, this won’t be her last.

A phone call interrupts the TV sound. Sasha answers; the delivery finally arrives and, two minutes later, she and Mr. Ackerman are eating dinner in the meeting room. The 7 p.m. news has ended, leaving behind the sound of an interview night show they both ignore.

“Sasha?”

“Yes, Uncle?”

“Did you choose your career already?”

“No, sir. Not yet”

Kurt sighs, eating a mouthful.

“Whatever you decide, the college you choose, count on me to support you, okay?”

Sasha stops eating.

“I wish I could do that. But you know Mama and Papa won’t let you pay for my education. Not again. I think it’s better if I do it myself instead of getting in trouble with ‘em. I’m sorry, Uncle”

Kurt sighs again. This time, his lungs feel heavy in his chest.

He wish he could pull up Alexander Blouse’s pride from him, that old and rancid pride that comes inside the country people, not accepting a single thing as a gift, instead earning their bread by the sweat of their brows; no matter how close Kurt is to him, nor all the years he and his wife had worked for the Ackermans, years that made them friends. Kurt feels sorry for not being able to raise Sasha on his own, as his own daughter, knowing that Alexander and Lisa would have never allowed it. Proud of their humble origins, always aware of making their daughter remember that there’s no biggest satisfaction than working hard to fulfill a dream.

Therefore, Sasha had grown with the bittersweet dilemma of living between a borrowed opulence and a humility inherited from her parents who, after getting married, decided to migrate to the big city. Only Kurt Ackerman hired them: Alexander as his concierge, Lisa as his housekeeper. One year later, Sasha came into the world, facing the hypocritical bind of a wealth that was never hers.

“Fine” he surrenders. He’s over with dinner, so all the disposables go to the trashcan. Sasha’s phone buzzes; it’s a text message from Nikolo, her boyfriend, who is about to arrive. However, she doesn’t notice, for her uncle keeps talking at the same time “Have you talked to Mikasa?”

“Hmph,” she gulps, done with her food “not today. I was busy and the time zone doesn’t let us chat much”.

“What about Armin?”

“He neither”

“Okay. I’ll try calling her tomorrow”

Kurt looks sad. Sasha notices.

“Uncle? What 's wrong?”

Coming out of his limp, silent slumber caused by his daughter's memories, Mr. Ackerman smiles.

“I miss her,  child ”.

“So do I”

"Maybe…" The man is silent. His niece knows well that she shouldn't drag on the subject, so she cleverly decides to change it.

"Uncle, can I ask you a favor?" Sasha spits out the phrase almost involuntarily. This is for Kurt not strange, as for the girl has always been shy, reluctant to ask for favors, except when she has no other option. He, as understanding of his niece as ever, nods.

“Whatever is your desire”

"I just wonder..." A nervous laugh. The girl fiddles with her fingers, as if she wanted to flee the place.

“Go ahead. Tell your uncle what you need”.

"Uh… I wanted to know if… Is there a chance that…"

"Sasha, come on. Your uncle will do all he can, so tell me once”. Kurt chides her sweetly. Then she speaks.

"Can you give Nikolo a job? He is a chef. But nobody would hire him because of his lack of experience..”

Mr. Ackerman breaks the monotony of the room with a sudden applause that startles his niece.

“I was just thinking of hiring a new cook to work at home. Would you like to bring him home first thing in the morning?”

Sasha's sun-colored eyes light up, full of joy.

"He'll be there without fail tomorrow. I promise.”

“I know. I trust he will, sweetheart”.

“Imma´tell him…”

A text message that cuts the talk short.

Another one.

Right away, a very insistent call.

“Excuse me, Uncle. It's Nikolo… ” the girl warns, her eyes focused on the illuminated and vibrant screen of his mobile.

“Okay, okay, sweetheart, go home…”

“Ain't you comin´?”

Kurt doesn't reply right away.

“Not at the moment…”

“Understood. Goodbye. Thanks for dinner. Thanks for everything. You're the best!”

"Be careful," Mr. Ackerman says with a laugh. By the time he finishes speaking, his niece is no longer in the room.

Sasha disappears before her uncle's words reach her. She doesn't use the elevator as it would take her too long to get to the ground floor. Is it that, or is she afraid of the elevator? Clack, clack, clack. Her shoes tap the polished floor of the stairs, echoing, and her heart beats with the speed of a cornered rodent. There is not a single soul in the twenty-story building except the receptionist, but there are still five floors to get to the bottom. The auditory hallucinations begin: the air currents resemble whispers, and at times she thinks her footsteps are followed by others. But everything is a suggestion; she knows there is no one following her except her fear of loneliness. Anyone would feel dread going down the stairs from the seventh floor to the first, without a doubt.

No, Sasha, not just anyone. Mikasa would do it without hesitation and, incidentally, it would give her a little courage to continue.

But Mikasa is not here.

It's been long since she is no longer here.

Years have passed with an entire ocean separating them.

“Why wouldn't you pick up the phone?”

It’s the first thing she hears when her feet step on the lobby. The hall porter hasn’t let Nikolo in, who is waiting for her arms crossed and a not-so-gentle face. For some reason, Sasha was expecting such reception; however, seeing him so annoyed makes her uncomfortable.

“What?”

“Fuck, I’ve dialed a thousand times to let you know I was on my way here, but you never answered. Who the hell were you with?”

“What are you talking about?” Sasha asks, slightly outraged. As she walks to the exit, her boyfriend seems to want to lead her way “I was with my uncle, upstairs, having dinner.”

“Then think it better about me next time and answer my fucking call, are we clear? Now, let 's go. It’s getting late”.

She steps back. Nikolo’s hand grasps her waist, harming her.

“Don’t do that. You’re hurting me…”

“The city is dicey at night. I worry about you”

“That’s why you gotta hurt me like this? Ouch…” she cries, rubbing the pain spot.

“Hurt you? Everything I do is worry about you, and all you do is to be a whiner?”

“I’m not a whiner! And I do worry about you, too,” Sasha starts summoning courage out of nowhere. This is not the first time she and her boyfriend argue like this. Even the porter, curious, watches them. Nikolo notices and gets her out of the building as fast as he can.

The streets are cold and dark outside. A couple of cars stifle their voices as they rise above the night.

“Do you worry so? If you did, you’d keep an eye on your damn phone so you could answer me right away. Were you that busy you couldn’t answer?” his hand grabs her again, stronger this time. She can’t wriggle out.

“I told you, I was having dinner with my uncle”

“Is it that your uncle is more important than me?”

“Nikolo! Please, you’re getting this out of hand. Let go!”

“Then answer me instead of complaining, Sasha. So I won’t have to get this out of hand-

Suddenly, Nikolo shuts up.

A pair of gleaming orbs stare at them in the distance.

It’s a man, maybe around Sasha’s age. He wears a knee-length coat, his hair tied in a manbun, his hands in his pockets. He’s suspicious looking, as if he were about to commit a crime.

And perhaps, he is. The crime will be punching him if he doesn’t leave the lady alone, or at least that’s what Nikolo’s ear catches in the distance, with the gust of wind that carries the voice away.

“Excuse me?” Nikolo releases Sasha. He’s determined to confront the stranger, who gets their distance shorter with every step.

“Leave her alone. Didn’t you hear her?”

The newcomer’s voice is deep, raspy, heavy, as if coming out of the world’s most powerful being.

“Who are you to tell me what I can do?”

“I am nobody, that’s clear. But it’s obvious as well you’re hurting her”

“Dude, this is none of your business. Mind your own and get the fuck outta here”

“Better for you to learn how to treat your girlfriend, asshole.”

“Even a stranger knows it better than you,” Sasha’s voice stands out over them. Shy, but determined. Outraged, with her pride hurt, she knows that the best she can do is go home, but not with Nikolo. So she walks away, before he can reach her. No matter how many times he calls her, she won’t go back. At least, not now. She has plucked up a certain amount of bravery the same instant this stranger stood up for her, some sort of courage similar to what Mikasa would have inspired in her, had she been by her side. 

Immediately the tension dissipates, since the stranger no longer has anyone to defend, hindering the passage of the lover who so insistently calls the name of his girl.

"Mind your own business," is the last thing Nikolo declares, before leaving and fading away in the darkness of the sidewalk.

The stranger, slightly shocked by the event, walks towards the building front gates. He is surprised to see how little pushy that guy has been about the girl. Damn it. Had he been in his place, he would never have left her go. Apologizing would be crucial, but this guy doesn't seem interested in it at all.. Then he shakes his head when he loses sight of him, and continues on his way. The security guard pulls out a gun and points it at him, mistaking him for a homeless man, but he raises his hands in surrender.

"I'm Eren Jaeger," he says, before stepping through the massive glass doors at the entrance. "I´d like to know when I can meet Mr. Kurt Ackerman.”

"It's too late," the guard declares without lowering his weapon. " Come back tomorrow, boy. Mr. Ackerman is not here."

"Sir, I´ve come from Shiganshina. I've been traveling by train all day, and I just want to know if you can call Mr. Ackerman and tell him I'm coming on Carla Jaeger´s behalf".

"Son, someone who means well does not show up in this place at this hour in search of one of the most important men in this country. Come back tomorrow when it is clearer and we can see your face better."

Eren is about to protest. Aiming a gun at him is not very sensible if he is unprotected. But a shadow behind the glass catches his attention, and although he thinks for a moment that it is a ghost or something similar, he immediately recognizes the figure that crosses aside and stops the guard. The uniformed man and the girl exchange a few words for a couple of seconds and, the next, the gun lowers.

She is the same girl who a few minutes ago had seen arguing with that idiot.

Yeah. The girl's boyfriend just made it into Eren Jaeger's black list.

"What did you say your name was?" She inquires, opening the huge glass door to return to the street, where he still stood.

"Eren. Eren Jaeger. And you are?"

"Sasha. I am the niece of the man you are looking for. Why come at this time and not tomorrow?" She questions him, keeping her distance. It is true that this boy wanted to defend her a few minutes ago, however she does not know him, and Sasha is cautious. Eren, sighing in defeat, tucks his hands back into the pockets of his coat. The situation exasperates him a bit. Plus, he hasn't smoked a cigarette in hours.

"I´ve come all the way from Shiganshina. I have traveled all day by train, and I cannot stay because I must return first thing in the morning tomorrow. You see, I know you don't know me, but if you could call him and tell him I'm Carla Jaeger's son, then he'll want to see me. I know. My mother and him were friends. And it is imperative that you speak to him.”

"But he's not here. Isn't it obvious?"

"I understand, of course. But I came with my hopes on finding someone who could give him my message, and thus be able to reach him."

Sasha remains lost in her thoughts for a while. She will take into consideration what he did for her a few minutes ago. Eren watches her, somewhat impatiently, and awaits a few seconds for her to make a decision.

"Okay," she says at last. “I will call him. But I promise nothing.”

Eren, relieved, lets out a cathartic exhale.

“Thank you! Thank you so much.”

Sasha laughs kindly and turns away from him a bit. Eren sees her take out her mobile to make a call, but he doesn't hear anything she says, as she has entered the building again. From the outside, the boy notices that the guard does not relax in his place, so he decides to stay in the same spot, as the more he moves, the greater threat he would represent. And that is not convenient at all.

"A´right. You can come in."

Sasha's sudden voice brings him back to reality, because during the wait his mind has been wandering on the very few chances he had of being able to meet with Kurt Ackerman that night . The boy's emerald eyes go wide, shocked. He expected everything but that invitation.

"But ... I thought he wasn't he-"

Sasha laughs shyly.

"I must lie if I don't know you."

"You're right."

"Please, come in. The guard will check you out."

Eren sets a step inside the place.

The lights in the lobby are dim, but they don't hide the luxury of the room. Every corner, every wall, every single detail surrounding the central building of the Ackerman Motor Company exudes finesse, elegance and sumptuousness. He feels small, humiliated, as if his presence could tarnish the immaculate opulence of the floor he touches.

He wishes he could whistle in amazement, however only clearing his throat to match the look on his face, as his eyes glide all over the place. The guard checks him from head to toe, and being seen that he is harmless, stops, letting Sasha know that he has finished his work.

"Thanks, Hannes," the girl says.

"You're welcome, miss."

"Come with me." It is Eren she is speaking to now. He follows her at a safe distance, still observing the place. Together, they walk to the elevator where they enter, and the doors close when the girl presses the number 6 on the digital board.

They both remain silent for a few minutes. Eren clears his throat again.

Nevertheless he remembers the event that occurred a few minutes ago.

"Hey," he calls out to the auburn-haired girl. She, with her back to him, turns to look at him.

"Yes?"

"Maybe I shouldn't stick my nose in someone else's matters, but you shouldn't let your boyfriend treat you like that."

Sasha sighs, embarrassed. Then turns her back on him again. Eren thinks he screwed up.

"He is not a bad guy. He's just… a little… bossy."

"Yes. I noticed."

Silence again. But Sasha looks at him again.

"Anyway, thanks for steppin’ in. I mean ... I dunno. I am sorry."

"Don’t apologize. He is the one who should do it".

Sasha smiles again. This time with modesty.

"Thank you."

"Thank you for bringing me here."

"Well, you were right about your mom. My uncle told me to take you upstairs right away just after I told him that Carla Jaeger's son was here."

"Well. It was better than I expected."

"You're lucky he didn't go home."

"I know."

This time, the elevator doesn't terrify her. This guy Eren seems like a nice one. Sasha examines him; his appearance is somewhat disheveled, similar to that of some rock band lead singer who dresses up quickly so as not to be late for a press conference, and in his eagerness he has forgotten to wear a tie. However, the trench coat hides the mess in his appearance, and the attractiveness of his face dulls the imperfections of his presence. He seems like a nice guy, she thinks. He probably is. When the board reads number six, the gates reopen, and Sasha is the first out.

It's a long way to go from the elevator to Mr. Ackerman's office and for Eren each step is an eternity. Two huge wooden doors await him at the end of the corridor, and when he arrives, Eren thinks he has just crossed along the Snake way.

Knock Knock.

"Come in." Says a singsong voice from within. Sasha slides the wooden door open, and a middle-aged blond man with a goatee and nerdy clothes awaits them, standing in front of a desk that exudes as much luxury as everything surrounding it. The office is intimidatingly spacious, and when Eren sets foot in it, that nerdy-looking guy walks up to him… and hugs him.

Well well.

He didn't expect that either.

"My God," is the first thing that man says. "The last time I saw you you were still wearing diapers. You are just like Carla."

Still processing the hug, Eren remains silent. Sasha clears her throat, waiting for the moment her uncle walks away from the newcomer. But Kurt seems in awe; the man's hands rest on the boy's shoulders now, as if it were his son.

"Ahem," the girl clears her throat once more. Mr. Ackerman slides his eyes over to her, coming out of his amazement. "Ya´ guys seem to have lots to talk about, so I'll leave you alone ..."

"Weren't you going home with your boyfriend?" That is Kurt's question when his niece is about to leave the room. Sasha shakes her head.

"Not anymore," she explains. And that's it. The blond man nods.

"Then wait for me a few minutes, and we'll all go home."

Eren doesn't understand. However, he remains silent. Sasha nods this time.

"Understood"

The girl leaves the room without asking further, even though curiosity could kill her. Her uncle will probably take the time to explain what's going on on the way home, so she prefers not to get impatient. Then she walks away. Inside the office, Kurt invites the newcomer to take a seat.

"I can't believe this, son. How is it you came from so far, after so long? How is Carla? Is everything okay with her?" Each question is fired impatiently, as if the nerdy-looking man didn't have time to ask them. Inside, Eren is nervous. That stranger is really nice, so he and his mother must have been pretty close. It is this fact that does not allow him to distrust.

"No sir. That is why I have come."

When the boy speaks, the jovial expression on Mr. Ackerman's face changes to one of grim unease.

"What happened?"

A cloud of tense silence hangs over both of them for a few moments.

Eren sighs. The blast of cold air that seeps into the office will freeze the boy's words in the air, immortalizing them as the sad reminder of the fragility of human existence.

"Carla has cancer."

  
  


* * *

The glow that surrounds the moon late that night reminds her of her childhood.

It's three in the morning, and in the solitude of her room, Mikasa Ackerman exhales a long sigh.

She doesn't miss dad. Not really.

Okay, maybe a little. But not enough to want to go back.

She misses Sasha. Her jokes and games together. The walks and the lazy afternoons with Armin. She yearns for her best friend, for Alexander, and Lisa; the warmth of a borrowed family and the fleeting lapses of happiness of an interrupted childhood. The children's talk, the hands of Mrs. Blouse comforting her back when her stepmother mistreated her in the absence of papa, because he was always busy. Too busy to be home.

For that alone she misses coming back.

Years ago, her stepmother sent her away from home, along with Armin. And daddy didn't say anything.

Years ago, she had to learn how to live alone.

That very night, sleepless, Mikasa Ackerman escapes furtively from her room, walking silently to the male pavilion, sneaking through the bushes that separate both sides, everything to go and see Armin. He’s waiting for her, for he can’t sleep either; and he knows well his best friend will be by his side at any moment, as almost every night.

And he always leaves the door ajar, so she will make no noise when getting in and nobody will notice and they won’t get in trouble with the teachers in the boarding school. Ah, they’ve spent so many years sneaking to each other’s rooms to comfort each other’s loneliness that he’s astonished at the fact they’ve never been caught. And this makes him smile to himself. Rumor had it between their classmates about a romantic relationship between them, but nothing is further from reality than this, for Mikasa is the big sister his parents never gave to him.

For he lost them at an early age and, since then, Mikasa was his only company.

“May I?”

This new voice makes him come out from his lethargy, but doesn’t catch him by surprise. He knows well who’s at the door so, instead of turning to her, he beckons to her while looking still through the window. Mikasa, stealthily, sneaks under his blankets, covering herself up from nose to toes. Armin glances over her from his seat in the window frame and snorts a cackle: she looks like a little girl.

“You never lost that habit of yours of disturbing my sleep. You’ll never change.”

“And you never complained”, the raven-haired girl answers, sheets over her mouth. Her silvered eyes barely showing up above the fabric, subtly glittering under the moonlight that pierces the window glass “So we’re both guilty.”

“Ahh, you got me on that,” Armin says “Imagine what Mrs. Blouse would say about this:” he straightens up, raises his index in the air about to mimic the aforementioned’s voice “‘That is so unlike a lady’. ‘Put on your shoes’. ‘Eat your vegetables’”.

He concludes his short standup show and hears Mikasa’s laugh under the blankets. He laughs, too, being careful not to be heard in the side rooms. When laughter diminishes, there’s only silence and gloom left.

“At least she’ll never know this,” it’s the first thing Mikasa pronounces, a few seconds later. She stops briefly and then goes on “I miss her” Armin nods “But I miss Sasha the most. We’d be better here with her”

“No doubt. But her parents would have never let her come.”

“Of course they wouldn’t, because they’re not the kind of parents that want to get rid of their daughter. We, on the contrary, were always a burden to that woman.”

Armin decides to say nothing, for he knows well who she’s talking about.

“I miss them, too,” he comments instead, looking again through the window to the huge backyard of the boarding school’s castle they have lived in for seven years straight.

“It will be good to see them again,” Mikasa talks with the longing of a wandering soul “Sasha, Mr. and Mrs. B. Levi, too” A pause. Mikasa’s eyes widen with curiosity towards her best friend “And finally get to know this Nikolo guy.”

The smile drawn in Armin’s lips is subtle, but not sincere. She doesn’t notice.

“Okay.”

He says no more about it. He doesn’t want to. She goes on.

“And even uncle Kenny, no matter how annoying he can be sometimes. Don’t you think?”

“Oh, no way. Everyone but Kenny” he declares, sighing. Mikasa is thankful he makes her laugh this much tonight, for today, especially, a shadow of sadness stains her heart.

Her best friend is not looking at her. He prefers not to.

She has pronounced everyone’s names at home, except one.

And Armin knows well. He knows why.

He knows her better than anyone, even when she herself doesn’t want to admit the reason she avoided to mention her own father’s name.

But Armin's silent.

Sometimes it is better to fall silent.

“You’ll see them soon again. And you’ll want to go back here when Sasha doesn’t leave you alone.”

They laugh again. And then, silence.

“Are you ready for that?”

This time, Armin turns around to face her.

“The real question here is: are you, Mikasa?”

She doesn’t answer. A lump gets stuck in her throat.

But Armin knows. He always knows.

“I want to sleep,” it’s all she explains.

“Sleep, then.”

“Would you hug me?”

“Always.”

Always.

The next second, Armin’s arms rock her to sleep as a little girl. And maybe it’s due to exhaustion, but it doesn’t take her long. However, her best friend won’t sleep tonight.

A sense of unease invades his guts like a cancer always he thinks of going home. And maybe that’s a product of his imagination, maybe it’s a consequence of the memories of his past, but he can’t foresee a bright future in his hunches.

Nevertheless, Armin stifles that voice that comes from his insides, a voice that fills him with fear and uncertainty, that eats him up and keeps him awake, strange, baffling, menacing, devouring. Armin shuts his insides and decides to save it all in a box that will never be open.

Not yet.

It’s time to go back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter was like a rollercoaster. So many conflicting emotions regarding the characters and the introduction to some family and interpersonal dynamics were a little hard to write, but I hope I could express my intentions properly. Don’t forget to leave a review and let me know if you guys liked it; that would mean the world to me. See you all next chapter and thanks for reading.


	3. A shipwrecked in a strange land - Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s difficult for me to know what I have dreamed and what it’s real.  
> My thoughts are divided between phantoms of my imagination and real people.” — Rhymes and Legends, by Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer.

Everything seems to be going back to its place.

Relieved, Eren inhales the bitter smoke of his cigar while drinking his coffee, sitting in the Royal Café terrace in the Karanese street, 15 minutes away from the Ackerman Motor Company. Staring at the highway that stretches in front of him, his mind recreates the events of the last week and it all looks like a dream, for no one could be that lucky. It’s all been too good to be true.

His mother should have been very close to this Mr. Ackerman guy since he had no doubts about paying for her surgery and helping her and her son, he thinks. This nerdy-faced man with a goatee seems to love Carla so, so much, that he couldn’t hide his tears when getting the news about Carla’s illness. He traveled back to Shiganshina along with Eren and, after making use of all his influences and power, Carla got her surgery in less than two days after her son’s return. And, as if this act of kindness weren’t enough, this wealthy, unselfish man, offers a well-paid job to his old friend’s son that won’t meddle with his career. Eren Jaeger has seen his life settled in less than 20 days. Is this a miracle? Divine Providence? God, or any other mystical being that favors him? Sitting there, cigar in hand, he smiles to himself, thinking of how lucky he is. A long-legged woman with a narrow waist approaches to his table with his tarts order, swings her hips in front of him, a flirty smile adorning her lips, but Eren just thanks her without taking his eyes off his phone screen.

“Asshole”, the woman retorts as she moves away, with her failed flirting attempt and her pride hurt. He doesn’t hear, for he is focused on answering a text from Carla: ‘be good to Kurt and behave, baby’, she asks him in the message. ‘It’s ok, mom. Focus now on your recovery’, is his reply. With mom out of danger and under a nurse’s care (a nurse paid by Mr. Ackerman, of course), Eren is totally available to start his new job at the company. It’s summer, no school, and a whole universe of possibilities opens in front of his eyes. The world is in his hands. He’s free and he’s satisfied.

There’s nothing that can disturb him, nor the peace the universe has lent to his hands, conspiring to his favor.

Nothing, except a tanned-skin, freckled young woman wearing rags.

Eren is done with his tarts and has paid the bill when he bumps into her in the middle of the sidewalk. Her rags cover almost all her body, and a lock of brunette hair crosses her face. Someone is yelling at her; seems like she stole something and is hidden inside the worn-out fabrics she calls clothes. He sees her falling in front of his feet, and when her pursuer is about to hit her, he stops her.

“Why do you wanna hit her?”, he asks the woman in an apron, who raises her arm with a rolling pin in hand, about to break the thief’s head. The aggressor, enraged, breaks a hell of yells in the presence of passers-by.

“This fucking whore stole a bread from my store!” she screams, trying to free herself from the hand of the boy who is grabbing her wrist. Eren, judging it all from a shabby-looking thief’s viewpoint, understands. Before the woman in an apron can say more, he puts his hand in his pocket to take some coins out.

“Here. I’ll pay for the bread. Keep the change and leave her alone”

“But…”

“I just paid for what she took. Isn’t it what you wanted?”

The event doesn’t take long to conclude.

The storekeeper lowers her hand. She knows she has no right to keep on arguing if this stranger has paid for the stolen thing so she steps back, glares at him and walks away, grumbling and cursing underneath her breath. The thief is still behind him, kneeling, her knees all scraped and trying to stand up; but when Eren tries to help her, she doesn’t allow it. She can handle it by herself.

“Thanks”, it’s all she mutters. Her expression is somewhat harsh, an odd mix between bitterness and mockery, between opposite emotions. Eren looks at her briefly, nodding.

“Anytime. Do you have anywhere to go?” he asks straight away. She deadpans, making sure that he catches the sarcasm in her facial expression.

“Do you think I have somewhere to go?” she replies “Of course I don’t. But I don’t need a savior, either”.

“Of course you don’t, but you do need help”, he explains, and hiding in his hands the little money he’s left, he hurries and saves it in the freckled-girl’s hand, about to keep on walking “There’s a shelter two blocks from here, turning left. The president’s daughter, Historia Reiss, is the owner. You should go there. As far as I know, everyone is welcome there”.

This girl can’t reply, for the man in front of her is already walking away.

“Hey! I don’t need your-” she stutters, holding in her hand enough money for three or four days of food. She wishes she could move and chase after this stranger, but her feet don’t respond. This guy walks too fast.

“Return the favor whenever you can!” he shouts, far enough.

“I’ll do it, asshole”.

Eren laughs to himself. He knows she didn’t mean it.

“What’s your name?” he asks from the distance.

“It 's Ymir! Don’t doubt I’ll return the favor!”

“Okay, Ymir. Nice to meet you! Bye!”

By the time she can move, it’s already late. This nice stranger has crossed the avenue.

Someday, not so far away, she will be able to return the favor. She 's sure of it.

But for now, there’s no other way than going to this shelter. She really needs a place where to spend the night, for the sky is already gray and her eyes have caught one or two lightning bolts in the distance.

She’s been lucky, she thinks. And, even if she doesn’t say it aloud, she wishes for this guy to be lucky, too.

Destiny can be a fickle child, sometimes.

* * *

Kurt Ackerman is unbelievably kind-hearted.

No one could imagine he’s one of the richest men in the country, not with his plain looks and his kind smile. His Tanino Crisci shoes and his Armani custom-made shirts and vests are so modest that he easily could be mistaken as a faculty professor. The way he smiles, his warmth and kindness contrasts the opulent arrogance of the Ackerman manor, whose expanse could be compared to 20 soccer stadiums. His employees admire him, respect him and love him, and Eren is amazed at this fact.

Perhaps, he wonders for a second: could this be all a farce to cause a first good impression? No, that’s impossible. Kurt is a busy man and he can’t have all that time to sync all his thousands of employees to ask them to pretend something like this. It’s all so natural that seems far-fetched; so he has no choice but get used to the fact that this nerdy-looking, millionaire man with a goatee is also an altruist from the heart. That, thanks to him, mama is at home, safe and sound; that, thanks to his kindness, he is able now to work and study at the same time in a job that didn’t even exist before: personal assistant of the Company’s president.

Wow.

Too good to be true.

But it is true.

As he walks through the facilities of the building to Mr. Ackerman’s office, Eren can’t believe his eyes.

It’s 8 a.m., and the summer sunshine bathes all the corridors, making him feel overwhelmed. For the umpteenth time in several days, Eren Jaeger is about to meet up with one of the most important men in Paradi, ready to begin with his work. To be totally honest, he has no damn idea of what he has to do, for he has never been an assistant of nobody (this is not his life-goal), but he’ll do it anyway. He will, if this means a ticket for a better life for him and Carla; he will, if this will allow him to fulfill his dream of becoming a doctor, just like his father, and save as many lives as he can…

The very instant his feet cross the doorstep to Kurt Ackerman’s office, Eren knows there’s no turning back. His eyes slide slowly over his workplace as he listens carefully to the introductions to start. Kurt welcomes him, and he couldn’t feel better, even though, deep down, he’s not so pleased with the idea of spending most of his time in an office, taking notes, calls, having his ass flatting even more on the seat, doing everything an assistant does. He wasn’t born to be a slave. But he lives in no fairy tale; however, he’ll get a good payment, as so are meals, and the best of all, Kurt is a good boss. This day will be long, but bearable.

Nonetheless, he can’t imagine how long tonight will be.

Neither when, at the end of the day, his boss makes him a proposal.

“Son”, Kurt calls him, as warmly as always.

“Sir?”

“Would you like to have dinner at home tonight? I’d like to introduce you to my family”.

Eren, touched by the offering, stays silent for a brief moment.

“Are you sure, sir?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well… You don’t know me yet”.

“You’re my friend’s son. And that’s enough for me. What do you say?”

How could he say no? This man’s kindness makes it impossible to say no as an answer.

“Alright”, Eren capitulates, nodding. Kurt claps in the air and, pushing his glasses back to the bridge of his nose with his index, walks out of the office.

“Come with me, then”.

And Eren follows him, not knowing how incredibly long will be this night.

* * *

Eren gulps.

As the Audi wheels slide over the pavement, the boy’s jade colored eyes look around the main entrance of the Ackerman manor. An arrogant principal garden full of orange trees and cypresses give form to the boulevard that leads to the porch, and the iron gates close behind the vehicle that keeps moving until its passengers are in front of the facade. Eren feels dizzy, and when the gleam of the marbled fountains blinds him, he must rub his eyes to recover his vision and make sure he’s not dreaming, for his eyes have never witnessed before this waste of sumptuousness bottled-up within the walls of a single home.

Wow.

This man is, indeed, filthy rich.

How come his parents were friends of such being? His stomach twists as he gets off the Audi, recalling those days when, back after his father’s death, Carla and him could barely eat.

Life is fucking unfair, and upsetting, too.

One day, he’s worried about his mom’s health, and the other, he’s the proud owner of a well-paid job while, at the same time, his feet step on one of the most luxurious manors around the country.

“Welcome, son”.

Kurt Ackerman’s voice gets him out of his trance. He nods.

“Thanks, sir”.

“Follow me”.

Eren’s eyes move away from what seems a private landing track in the distance, not so far away from the big house. He climbs the porch stairs carefully: all the floor gleams in neatness and he’s afraid he could taint it with the filth of his shoes. Right before Mr. Ackerman can knock at the door (just as Eren was expecting), a middle-aged woman opens it for him, welcoming them.

“Sir, I thought you’d get home later. Ma’am is upstairs”.

“Alright, Lisa. We have a special guest for tonight”.

“Oh”, the woman gasps, stretching out the wrinkles around her honey-colored eyes as she smiles. Eren thinks he’s seeing an older version of Sasha, and he can’t comprehend how the housekeeper resembles Mr. Ackerman’s niece this much. “Come on in”.

Eren moves, two steps behind his boss.

The white wooden gates are opened, and he crosses the doorstep. A 70 square meters hall gives way to the house indoor, whose living room, led by a giant fireplace, is bathed by the sundown light that sneaks over the floor. A lavish stairway with golden bars is what leads to the second floor, and the engraved reliefs in the towering ceiling remind him of the insides of an old cathedral. Eren is about to throw up: his senses will never get used to this lushness.

How can this be possible for a single man to own all of this? It seems unbelievable.

 _Fuckfuckfuckfuck_ , holy fuck. He’s sure he’s dreaming.

“Eren, this is Lisa Blouse. An old friend of mine and my housekeeper”, Kurt talks to Eren, stopping in the middle of the hall. Then, he turns to the woman “Lisa, he’s Eren. The son of an old friend of mine, as well, and my personal assistant since today”.

The housekeeper greets the newcomer. The road goes on, crossing a corridor decorated with Picasso paintings and one or two renacentist-style sculptures. There’s a white door with big glasses at the end of the road that seems to lead to some kind of water complex and Eren is not able to figure it out well, but they stop before another visibly heavy, solid wood door before getting there. Even this door in front of him, Eren thinks, must cost a bundle, more than his own life. Kurt is the first to enter the room that stretches before their eyes and, with a welcoming gesture, he invites the boy to join him.

“Do you want me to tell Ma’am you’re here, sir?”, the housekeeper asks, slightly tilting her head.

“No, Lisa. Let her rest. Better tell the chef to prepare a special dinner for tonight, that would be perfect.”

“What would you like for dinner?”

“Tuna carpaccio as an appetizer. I’ll leave the rest up to you”.

“Alright, sir”, Lisa is about to leave. Eren observes the interaction with attention, noticing all the reverence this woman talks with, and all the respect and affection Kurt has for her. By the way, he has no fucking idea of what on Earth is a Tuna carpaccio.

Does it exist?

Is it edible?

To tell the truth, Eren would rather a Double big Mac, and everything would be alright.

“Lisa?”

“Sir?”

“Tell Sasha to come here when you see her”.

“As you wish. Excuse me”, she says before leaving. Eren is standing in the same spot, not knowing who to follow. All this is so new to him, his senses are deeply affected and this makes him lose his way for a brief moment.

It’s Kurt’s voice inviting him to come in and take a sit which gets him out of his bewilderment.

Eren swallows an amazement whistle. The floor he and his mom inhabit in Shiganshina could easily fit into this office, as roomy as the office of an old college’s director, full of books, with a pure sequoia desk that only a very rich person, just as him, could have. The lights turn on when they go in and Eren remembers that, at home, lamps still have to be lit through a switch.

Wow.

He just realized something brutal and unexpected.

He isn’t poor.

He's wretched.

Kurt sits on his super armchair, beckoning Eren to follow him suit at the other side of the desk.

“Son, I’d like to know how did you feel today at work and what do you think.”

Eren smiles.

“To be honest, I’d be an ungrateful piece of sh-” the young man stops before finishing his word. He clears his throat and Kurt laughs, making him laugh too “I mean, I’d be so ungrateful if I’d complain. Everything is much better than I expected.”

Pleased, Mr. Ackerman nods, still smiling. 

“I bet you’re exhausted. Aren’t you?”

“Not at all, sir.”

“Well, you must know that some days your work will be harder than others, but I’m pretty sure that you can handle it all. Want something to drink while we wait for the dinner?”

“Uh… Lemonade would be great.”

“Fine.”

Mr. Ackerman presses one single button on the phone he has on his desk, asking one of his maid for two glasses of lemonade. That 's it. That easy. Everything’s at the reach of his hand.

Eren sighs. The chat goes on as they wait for the drinks.

“Thank you”, there’s a brief moment of silence. Kurt coughs and Eren clears his throat “Mr. Ackerman, I don’t wanna be inappropriate, but there’s something I would like to ask you.”

“Go ahead. I’m all ears”, mr. Ackerman answers, as nicely as always, taking his glasses off.

“I’d like to know why is that you know my parents and how you guys became friends”, Kurt keeps smiling as he talks “How come I didn’t know a single thing about you and never heard of you before despite all the time you’ve known them. All you just did for my mom was…

“I was expecting this and I thought it took you longer to ask”, the blonde man pronounces, joining his fingertips together as if he were about to say something serious “Son, your father saved the life of my first wife, my daughter’s mother, way before my child was born. Grisha was an excellent doctor and a great human being, and my gratitude to him as well as his professionalism made us great friends. I will never be thankful enough to your parents for what they did for my wife. Also Carla, for being a true friend to my dear Kyoko in her hardest”.

“Kyoko?” Eren asks suddenly, somewhat confused when hearing a foreign name. Kurt smiles again “I- I’m sorry…”

“Don’t worry. That was her name. She was asian, born in Hizuru. Her parents brought her to this country when she was a toddler and we met at college”.

“Oh”, Eren gasps, seeing him move a hand to the desk to take out a photo frame from a drawer. Leaning down a little, Kurt hands it to his guest. It’s Kyoko who is in the picture.

“She was a beautiful woman, wasn’t she?”, Eren just nods “And my daughter… My treasure. You should meet her someday. She looks so much like her mother”, Kurt turns on his screenphone and slides his finger twice on it before showing Eren another photo, this time with his daughter in it “Her name is Mikasa. She’s your age”.

Eren thinks this girl is gorgeous.

But he says nothing about it.

“I’m sorry about your first wife, sir. And thanks for introducing your family to me”.

“Huh, I’m not done yet, boy. There’s my current wife, Traute. Also my brother, Kenny, and my nephew, Levi, son of my deceased sister Kuchel. Maybe they come over tonight and stay for dinner. You met Sasha already. She’s not blood of my blood, but still my niece. A wonderful young woman, just as her parents. You met her mother, too”.

Eren understands.

“The… lady at the door?”

“That’s right”.

“And… what about your daughter?” Eren doesn’t think before talking this time either. When he realizes, it’s too late to take it back. To Kurt, the boy’s curiosity is just hilarious.

“My daughter…”, the blonde man repeats, nostalgic “She stopped living with me a long time ago. We wanted to give her the best education so we sent her to a boarding school abroad seven years ago. Since then, she visits us on vacations. She and Armin”.

“Armin? What a weird name. Is he your son?”

“As if he were. Armin lost his parents when he was just a little kid. Both of them were associates of the company and my friends, too; when they died, I became his legal guardian. He lived some years with us until he and Mikasa went to the boarding school. However, I haven’t seen them for three years straight”, Kurt sighs before carrying on “And maybe I’ve been too busy to visit them. We text each other, though; you know, with all the new technologies and the Internet, everything’s possible now even when she’s on the other side of the ocean”.

“I know you’re not asking, sir, but you should take some days off to go and visit your daughter. We never know when it will be the last time we’ll see our loved ones”.

Kurt stares at him, thoughtful. Eren is afraid he fucked it up by minding what’s none of his business. However, his boss smiles and nods.

It’s the best (or maybe the worst) about this Ackerman guy: nobody could ever feel threatened with him.

“You’re right, son. I’ve been so absorbed by my job and I’ve been a piece of shit as a father… I’m afraid my daughter doesn’t want to see me anymore”.

Before the chat continues, someone knocks at the door. Mr. Ackerman presses a button to open it from his seat (much to Eren’s amazement), and they remember they had forgotten about the lemonades long ago. The maid puts two glasses on the desk and leaves, closing the door again. It’s the boy the first to drink, losing himself in the refreshing and cold sensation of the liquid that drops down his throat. Whether it’s his recently discovered thirst or the summer’s heat he doesn’t know, but he’s sure this is the best lemonade he has ever drunk. Kurt drinks, too, but unlike his guest, he doesn’t seem as delighted with the taste.

And simply, they drink.

“Perhaps”, Kurt says “perhaps I do as you said”.

Another sip.

Silence.

“There’s… one more thing I’d like to know”.

It’s Eren’s voice. Kurt looks at him without taking the glass away from his mouth.

“I’m all ears”.

“May I know… why was just a few weeks ago that I came to know about you and your friendship with my parents? I mean, I’m nineteen and regardless of the affection my mother has for you and vice versa, I never saw you before…”

“Eren”, mr. Ackerman stops him, before he can continue “there’s so many things you need to know about your parents, especially your father, and I’ve been waiting for the right moment to tell you after getting Carla’s permission to do so. I think she should be here for that, but I also believe that it’s about time for you to know the most important thing of all”.

“And… that is?...” Eren straightens in his seat, curiosity growing slowly in his features. Kurt sighs.

“Is it ok if we talk about it after dinner? There’s a certain someone I would like you to meet”.

“Uh…”, doubtful, confused, Eren stutters, but he has no choice “I guess it’s fine, sir”.

“Alright”.

Kurt takes his phone and dials a number.

He waits.

Someone answers from the other side.

“I’m fine, son”, a pause “Yes. Right. Any plans for tonight? I’d like to have you around for dinner time”, another pause “Huh, what about later? Yeah, it’s imperative”, more pauses “I wait for you to be here after dinner. Say hello to your mother”, mr. Ackerman holds on for a few seconds and the call ends.

Uncertainty consumes Eren. What’s so terrible? What’s that something his boss has to tell him? Is all that mystery needed?

Before he can ask anything that crosses his troubled mind, someone knocks at the door, again. Kurt opens it once more, just like the last time.

“Hi, uncle. Mom said that you… Hey!” the girl’s honey-colored eyes widen in astonishment when they spot Eren as she approaches the desk “I never thought I’d see you here… Eren, right?”

The boy nods.

“Hi”, he answers, waving to her. Smiling, Sasha gets closer, resting her arms on the wood.

“How was your day, child?” Kurt asks. His niece answers before he could end his question.

“Fine, as always, uncle. What do you need me for?”

“Sasha, you’re the only person in this house the same age as Eren, and I’d like you two to get along. Show him the house if he wants; take him to meet your father. I think he might like him” Kurt warbles, leaning to rely his hands on the desk. Sasha nods “Eren”, he calls the young man “I think you won’t be able to find a better friend here than my niece. I leave you on her hands and go with her now. I don’t want you to get bored with this old man”.

Eren snickers. The emotional shock caused by the previous conversation and all the things he has seen in a short amount of time make him feel a light uneasiness, and his right leg shakes nervously.

“I could never feel bored with you, mr. Ackerman. But if you think I need to go, I will”.

Kurt raises his hand briefly. Sasha waits.

“Call me Kurt, okay? I’ve told you so. I just want you to feel comfortable, son. I noticed you’ve been quite stressed. Who could be better for this than my dear niece? You’ll never get bored being with her, red promise. Am I right?”

Sasha laughs, shaking her head.

“It’s: pinky promise, uncle”.

“Oh, yeah. Right. 

promise.”

“Pinky!”, Sasha can’t help her cackle, neither does Kurt. Eren smiles, but he’s too shy to join their guffaws. However, he likes this family portrait, and the uneasiness inside is starting to fade out.

“Good Lord! I’m not a youngster anymore. I’m out of touch. Alright, alright, you two can go. But, Sasha, be sure to be in time for dinner, okay?”.

She and the guest nod. Sasha says bye and Eren follows her suit (is he going to spend the rest of the day just following strangers? He’s not sure he was born for this, but he can’t say it bothers him, though). Outside of the study room, Eren stretches out, releasing all his gathered tension. He can’t deny it: Sasha’s cheerful aura gives him a sense of comfort he had been longing for a while ago now. Stiffness and composure were never his best friends.

“Okay. Where do you wanna go first?”, the girl asks, a tiny smile crossing her lips. She’s just as nice as Mr. Ackerman, but way much younger, and this makes Eren feel at ease.

Then, he shrugs.

“Uh, I don’t know. It’s you the one who knows all of this”.

“Well, it’ll take a while. This place is huge” she mimics the size of the house with her hands as she talks “but I think we’ll be on time for dinner. I’m starving. What about you?”

“Ha, ha”, this is the first time a little laughter escapes Eren’s mouth, and this catches him by surprise. The spontaneity of this girl is quite astonishing “Just a smidge”.

Sasha laughs, too.

“Let’s start with the backyard. You’ll die when you see that huge, huge” here comes her hands moving, mimicking the size again. Eren notices she likes to talk a lot with her hands “huge ass pool and also the sauna, trust me”.

Leaving the tension behind, Eren follows her steps. As long as the walk lasts, there will be only one thing on his mind: a Big Mac with extra cheese.

He’s truly hungry.

* * *

Two pairs of feet cross the Ackerman house doorstep, stepping on the unstained marble floor.

So many years have passed since the last time Mikasa and Armin were here and, now that they’re back, it seems unbelievable for the two of them. Everything looks the same: the walls, the paintings, the columns, the floor, the incense smell the cleaning products have given the place for so long and that can be perceived from the porch. Nobody’s there to welcome them, for anyone has heard their arrival (the hall is too large for this) and no one was expecting for them; three domestics take their baggage to the second floor until there’s nothing left to carry upstairs.

Both of them stand there, admiring the place they were forced to abandon a long time ago.

Armin, sighing, takes his friend’s hand, noticing the stiffness of her muscles.

No. She wasn’t ready to get back home. She never was.

But Mikasa is brave. And that’s enough.

It’s Mrs. Braus the first to realize their presence.

“Good Lord!”, her voice bounces in the hall’s walls, and something falls to the floor.

The woman’s eyes get filled with a liquid happiness. Her feet guide them to them and both friends are embraced in a maternal hug that gets their bones full of love, making them forget the uncertainty of coming back.

For Armin, this embrace feels like drinking a cup of hot chocolate in the middle of a winter cold night.

For Mikasa, like the rainbow in a cloudless sky after the storm. Even the whole house feels more colorful, covered in a warm white light and tiny dust sparkles all over the place crossing in front of her eyes.

The woman pampers them with kisses and caresses. Smiles, joyful whines and more hugs. Lisa asks one of the maids to go for Mr. Ackerman and tell him the news: his children are home. Kurt can’t believe it; he struggles to walk, sceptical, until he’s out of his office crossing the corridor and, when Mikasa’s gray eyes meet her father’s, everything goes blurred because of the tears.

“Dad…”

“Sweetheart…”

The amount of time they’ve been apart affects the man deeply, who can’t find the will to move for a few seconds. He’s frozen, and everyone in the hall falls silent, waiting for them to react.

Thus, Mr. Ackerman’s feet finally find the strength to walk and, the next second, the girl feels safe and sound in her father’s embrace.

They cry.

Mikasa has missed him beyond than she dares to admit to herself.

For what feels like a long time, they merge together in a hug full of silent tears and shuddering sobs. Neither of them dares to disengage from the embrace, fearing it to be just a mirage of their longings.

It's Armin's throat clearing what brings them back to reality.

"Ahem… Uncle, I'm here too," the boy warns, to be wrapped in Mr. Ackerman's arms in less than a second.

They both laugh, as does Mikasa. And before the girl's father can ask questions, a high-pitched scream is heard from the second floor, right at the top of the stairs.

No one understands how Sasha was able to come down so fast without tripping and falling dangerously; but it doesn't take long since her scream is heard, until everyone sees her throw herself at Mikasa, hitting her a bit, causing laughter in the spectators. The copper-haired girl's arms encircle her friend's head as she leaps up, covering her mouth, her eyes, tousling her perfectly straight hair, and Mikasa, instinctively closing her eyes, can't help but laugh again. She also supports her, preventing her from falling to the ground when going down, forgetting to contain her emotions in front of her best friend, because she has missed her too.

"I can't believe it… Oh my God!" Armin!” So the blond boy is the next "victim".

When Sasha's arms release Mikasa and wrap him up so effusively that they both fall to the ground, her blue eyes go wide in surprise and nervousness. She is on top of him, and her hands are on the guy's chest. He cannot hug her. His heart beats a thousand times an hour, and his nerve impulses have exploded so fast that she is unable to move. He has not felt pain when falling, because the tingling that runs through his body clouds his neurons. The world is condensed in those honey-colored eyes he missed so much, and his flushed cheeks sing the happiness of seeing her again.

But Sasha doesn't know that.

And when she doesn't get a reply, her smile fades into a breathless, shy laugh. Crap, 

, she repeats to herself, sure that she's screwed up. Armin is a boy! A man! A man who over time has probably already forgotten about her. Of course, Sasha. What are you thinking? Did you think that everything would be the same as when you were children? Of course not! You're such a fool …

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," the girl apologizes, pulling away from Armin to get to her feet in the blink of an eye. Without thinking, she grabs his hand and pulls him, lifting him off the ground just as quickly as she did with herself. Armin, overloaded with emotions, falls silent. Sasha, embarrassed, lets go of his hand.

A cloud of tension and discomfort hangs over the hall, and Mrs. Blouse, still present, wonders why her daughter is acting so strangely. It is true, the years have passed and they are no longer children, but they have been friends forever. Why does Armin seem so distant?

"Come on, sweetpea," the woman intervenes, taking her daughter by the arm. “They must be tired from the trip. You shouldn't be so effusive …”

"Lisa, leave them. They're young and they haven't seen each other for a long time — it's Mr. Ackerman who interrupts her. Armin, wide-eyed with his emotions, decides to repair the damage and shake hands with his friend before it's too late.

"Good to see you too, Sasha."

She shakes his hand.

And that 's it.

Mikasa, who can see Armins heart’s will from outside, gently pushes him away from Sasha. It burns where the girl has touched him, his chest, his arms, the palm of his hand. It is a bonfire that the fire-haired woman has left in him.

But as always, Armin is silent.

"I can't believe you guys are here…" Sasha says, hugging her best friend again more calmly. Then an unknown figure interrupts the embrace. The stranger remains at the bottom of the stairs, away from the family reunion. Foreign to the stage and the situation, he has no choice but to isolate himself.

Mikasa notices his presence, and her gray eyes focus on him, wondering who he is. His appearance is careless, different, and contrasts terribly with that place; or so she thinks. Armin clears his throat introspectively asking the same question, but before Kurt can explain the stranger's presence, a new voice joins the gathering.

It’s a blonde woman, with thick lips, cold eyes, and a false expression of joy on her features. When Eren sees her from his desolate corner, he flinches. It was like witnessing the arrival of a dictator, as if a gray and electrically charged cloud settled over them all. The room falls silent and Mikasa Ackerman's body returns to its initial rigidity.

However, the newcomer walks towards the dark-haired girl, being the next to hug her. Her lips meet the girl's forehead, and her hands surround her face in a motherly way; Kurt seems to be the only one pleased with the scene everyone is watching. And the cloud of tension does not disappear from the lobby.

"My sweet girl, you don't know how much I missed you."

Mikasa doesn't answer right away. The statement has taken her by surprise.

With a gesture, Kurt encourages her to do so.

“Hi Mom. I missed you too. I missed you all, actually.”

"You are so beautiful. Isn't she, darling?" The woman turns to Mr. Ackerman, who nods delightedly, a broad smile adorning his lips. Armin plans to move away before being captured, but the woman does not let him escape, and manages to lock both newcomers in her arms. “You two are huge! At what point did you two grow so much? Armin, you are already a man.”

"Hi, Traute."

Before the brief greeting, the woman waves her hands in the air and drops them on the boy's cheeks, pinching them like a small child. But Armin stands it. Traute never takes a no for an answer.

"Why didn't you say you were coming back?" We would have prepared a great welcome party to receive you. This is unforgivable", The woman warns, behind a facade of affectionate reprimand that only Kurt ignores. As she speaks, Sasha is pulled away from the group with a slight, sneaky push that brings her back to her mother. Traute makes sure to keep the servant´s daughter away from the family core, while holding her husband's daughter's wrist firmly, asking for an immediate answer to her question.

However, it is Armin who is quick to meet the woman's demands.

Eren, meanwhile, remains ignored. His eyes focus on Sasha and her hidden humiliation. It seems that no one else has noticed except him and the girl's mother.

What kind of woman is this Traute?

"We wanted to surprise you. That's it. And the journey has been so long, with so many stops that now we just want to rest”.

"Of course you will rest. After eating, of course”, Traute declares, Mikasa's arm still in her hand. Armin has already been released, which is a great relief to him. “Lisa …” now she turns to the housekeeper, though without turning to her or looking at her, for the servants are not worth it “tell the chef to cook a special dinner tonight. My children have come home. And I don't want lateness, is that clear?”

Lisa Blouse sighs to herself. When Traute Ackerman gives an order, she feels like the most miserable and insignificant slave.

"Yes ma'am. Please, excuse me". The housekeeper leaves, always submissive. Sasha wishes to go with her, but Lisa prevents her. Sending her daughter to the kitchen is reaffirming that humiliation, and that is something the Braus family will never allow. Thereby Sasha stays in the hall, very close to her uncle, in the shadow of a family who is apparently deeply glad with the reunion. Eren can observe everything from his solitude, waiting for the precise moment to leave and avoid another second of that uncomfortable situation.

"Let's all go to the dining room. Have you already had your baggage carried to your rooms?", Traute seems to have taken command of the scene. Armin nods quickly. The employees could get into trouble with Mrs. Ackerman if her demands have not been met, so the boy is relieved that he can protect them. Before starting the way to the dining room, the woman with the icy gaze notices the presence of that stranger. "Eh, who are you...?

Kurt is quick to explain the situation.

"Eren Jaeger. My new personal assistant. I invited him home tonight and he will stay with us for dinner.”. Mr. Ackerman gestures towards the young man and calls him closer. "He's an old friend´s son”. Then his eyes travel to the lad. "Eren, this is my family: Traute, my wife; Mikasa, my daughter, and Armin, my son".

Thus, Eren is introduced to everyone, shaking hands with the new acquaintances. When it's Mikasa's turn, and the green condenses with the gray, the girl flinches. A spark of electricity ignites his spirit, like Michelangelo's Adam receiving God's touch and being awakened from an ancient slumber. Mikasa sees the fangs in those orbs and feels small, defenseless in the face of the imposing stranger who still holds her hand. Then she gulps, her heart racing when he gives her a crooked smile.

"Eren Jaeger".

"Mikasa Ackerman".

It's all they say to each other.

And he backs away, keeping to himself the silent thought that the woman in front of him is truly beautiful.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continues in Chapter IV  
> I had to change the title since this new one was more accurate for the situation.


	4. A shipwrecked in a strange land - Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Monsters are real and ghosts are real, too. They live inside us and, sometimes, they win". — Stephen King

Once more, Eren wonders how the hell he came to this situation.

Colors, smells, voices, the dark-haired shape that moves in front of his eyes makes him a sort of frenzy that seems to take him to an unknown dimension, just like when he smokes weed. Alright, he only did that once, but the experience was psychedelic enough to relate it to this very moment. He's still feeling dizzy, but not quite enough to make him stop. Someone's talking while he holds the girl he just met's gaze and it's this badly-timed sound what brings him back to a crushing reality.

"Alright, everyone to the dining room", it's Traute's voice "A tasty feast is waiting for us".

"But we didn't ask for a fea-", Mikasa replies in a low voice. Nevertheless, Traute stops her, raising her index.

"Nah-ah. This isn't up for discussion", the tone carried in her voice is an odd mix between sweetness and threat that avoids all refusal. The woman leads the way to the dining room and Sasha, excited, grabs her friends by their arms to make them cease. Armin gasps at the touch of her, and Mikasa's eyes meet the stranger's before looking at her friend.

"I need you two to come with me to the kitchen. There's someone I'd like you to meet".

With a skeptical and discreet smile, Mikasa addresses her.

"No way...Is he here? In the kitchen?"

"Shhh. You'll see. Come with me".

Sasha tugs at them both, panting from happiness. But Armin lets himself go off her hand, guessing what Mikasa's words meant, his heart already broken in a hundred pieces.

"Sorry, Sash. I can't…"

"Nobody's going anywhere but to the dining room", Traute, again. As for her voice emanates such authority that every head in the corridor lifts up to look at her. Even Eren, whose eyes were using his cellphone to hide the moment they focused on Mr. Ackerman's daughter, hurries to look at the voice's owner "And you, kid", Traute goes on, her scornful blue eyes on Sasha "go back with your mother to the kitchen. This is a family dinner".

There's silence.

Steps and breathings make a halt. Hearts beat fast, due to the public humiliation, and Eren's eyes fall over all the people involved.

Traute gloats over her arrogance, waiting for everyone to do as she commands.

Armin gulps down, his hands closing in fists.

Mikasa trembles in her helplessness, her friend's hand letting go of hers.

Sasha steps back, hiding her face from the rest so nobody can notice the tears that desperately struggle to come out.

All of it taking place in less than a second.

"How dare you…?", Mikasa's voice is a whisper full of outrage. The shocking scene still doesn't let her react.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. Excuse me-"

"You're going nowhere, Sasha. You're family, too. And you'll have dinner with us tonight as you should every day. Also your mom, and your dad. Our dinner table is roomy enough for us to share it".

For the first in a long time, Kurt Ackerman dares to go against his wife.

There's a cloud of tension and uneasiness settled over them all, as if they were all waiting for an irremediable disaster. This time Kurt's hand is the one that stops his niece from getting away and, with this, seals the decision that defies Traute's command.

"Don't cry, please. You're stronger than this", Armin whispers, quite close to Sasha. His little finger entangles the girl's in an act of protection and, before someone can see her crying, he moves her away as if hiding her presence from the others. Mikasa follows them, and they won't go to the dining room right away, for their friend needs to regain herself, to collect with her head held high the pieces of herself that were scattered all over the corridor before continuing their way.

Armin awaits, not letting go of her finger. From the other side, Mikasa wipes away the tears that ruined her friend's happiness at their reencounter and Sasha, drawing upon the pride her father taught her to live with, raises her head and decides, too, to defy Traute in her own way.

She's not alone.

"Ready?", it's Mikasa the one who talks. Sasha nods, a tiny smile in her lips when she notices Armin's finger entangled in hers. He lets her go and stutters, not sure when was the moment he dared to touch her.

And Eren keeps observing, analyzing, amazed in the siblinghood of those three, nauseated by Traute's meanness. It's not foreign to him at this point the reason why Sasha has an asshole of a boyfriend: she's surrounded by them. However, he feels the arrival of Mr. Ackerman's children as a relief to Sasha, for they're an obvious support for her. Someday, he will thank them, even though he knows deep, deep down, that's none of his business.

He follows them, keeping a prudent distance.

The next thing his eyes catch is the dining room, and he's sure he'll end up blind because of all the luxury he's about to witness for the rest of the evening out.

* * *

Only a king and his court could sit around that table. And Eren, once more, can't help it but feel tiny.

Every guest takes a seat. Traute is the first one, sitting in the far north of the table, revealing who takes control of the family. Kurt is next, and his place is beside his wife, in the far right wing. Mikasa is forced to sit in front of her father, far left wing, and it's not under discussion which seat she has to take. For Eren, who observes quietly at a prudent distance, this scene is the carnivalesque epitome of a dysfunctional happy family and, when he sits down next to his boss, the somber smile in the dark-haired girl's lips is all the evidence his theory needs. Armin is in front of him, next to his best friend, and his posture when sitting reflects a slight hint of protection towards her, acting as a safety shield against Traute. And next to Armin is Sasha, who, among this gathering, seems to be his reflection: a shipwrecked in a strange land.

Eren wonders if it was always like this: two sides in the same place. He didn't have to be a genius to notice it. And it's Traute the mastermind behind those sides.

How sordid.

"Eren, I hope you feel comfortable here, son. Make yourself at home", it's mr. Ackerman's voice, as warm as always.

 _Of course not._ "I do, sir", Eren manages to not let his thoughts free. And congratulates himself for it. The same instant, Traute, who hates not being in the limelight, clears her throat.

"Well, well, this is the first time I see you, Eren. Tell me, where do you come from? What do you do for a living?"

As Eren gets ready to answer, one of the maids sets the table for the appetizer, serving wine. All the eyes are on him, slightly overwhelming him.

"I come from Shiganshina, ma'am. My mother is a dressmaker, my father was a doctor, a close friend of mr. Ackerman. I'm a sophomore medical student. And by a lucky chance I happened to meet your husband when I needed him the most, and he gave me a job. That's why I'm here now".

"Ah", Traute sighs, arrogance and superiority filling her lungs and breath. The harshness in her features makes her look haughty, her expression carrying a dense shadow of hubris, typical in almost every upper class woman "That's so Kurt. Isn't it, dear? Always taking pity on beggars and poor souls. He's a saint. Sometimes too much for my taste", the woman concludes, an irritating and shameless giggle escaping her throat that makes Mikasa's teeth grind.

Something ignites inside Eren, like the flame of an enraged bonfire that needs to be put out before burning it all to ashes. His hands close into fists, one under the table, the other on it; nevertheless, after taking enough oxygen, he's willing to answer.

"Of course, ma'am. He's a saint and that makes his whole family a lucky one. I've known a few people in my life that, no matter how rich they are, they'll always be miserable, 'coz they are poor in their souls. But Mr. Ackerman has already earned a place in heaven", Eren ends his statement by drinking a sip of wine. The hot liquid slides down his throat as softly as his words left his mouth, and he smiles, taking away from the woman a pinch of the same brazenness she used, so he could give it back as elegantly as her. For a second, he feels he belongs in there.

This girl, Mikasa, looks at him. She has a deadpan expression in her face, but her eyes are the mirror of her soul and Eren is not a mindreader, but he can see what's behind them.

Stiffness, disbelief, astonishment, admiration. She doesn't have to say a word for him to understand her.

Armin seems to be pleased, although silent.

Sasha smiles to herself. Her lips pressed together and her eyes slightly narrowed tell him she's making a huge effort not to laugh out loud and get into trouble. And she thanks him, mouthing the word behind the others' backs. With subtlety, he tilts his head to her, but there's only one reaction he's interested in.

Eren doesn't quite understand why, however, when his eyes meet a pair of gray orbs, he finds satisfaction in her satisfaction. It's been a cry of rebellion, an act of boldness against the camouflaged tyranny of the cold, steel-eyed, hard-faced woman. A spring in the middle of arid land, it's the expected revenge for Sasha's humiliation that nobody knew how to avenge before. It's the courage nobody dared to collect, the insolence of this boy that gave Mikasa the confidence she wanted so much to get back.

Kurt laughs, drinking a sip of wine. His naïveté doesn't allow him to notice the duel of wills that has spilled over his own table.

Before Traute can talk back, the appetizers make their appearance. Tuna canapes and stuffed eggs are placed on the table by the chef, and it's incredible how all that food operates magically over the violent tension of the diner guests and vanishes in the blink of an eye. Sasha smiles when served, and the chef answers winking at her, a knowing look in his face. Just Armin understands.

He has no need to be a genius to decipher the nature of their relationship, and his heart doesn't take long to shatter. His hands get tense and hide under the table, as his eyes focus on the cutlery to restrain himself from looking at her again.

He didn't know how much it would hurt until he saw it with his own eyes. However, this one will be an agony suffered in a corner of his already broken soul.

Eren is the next to be served, and when the chef approaches him, his hand stops, avoiding the guest's plate before leaving in the center the appetizers tray.

"Nikolo, will you leave Eren unserved?" it's Mr. Ackerman's question, for nobody could ignore the fact that Eren's plate was left empty. The chef, with his guts twisted and against his will, finishes his task before going back to the kitchen.

"Excuse me, sir. Please, enjoy", he declares. And Sasha sees him walking away with fast steps. He closes the private kitchen door shut startling everybody, and Sasha, nervous, decides to go after him. All of them wonder what's the matter but her, going away while apologizing.

Armin tries to stop her, but Mikasa stops him instead.

"What's wrong with the servants today?", Traute asks, having a mouthful "Everybody went mad or something?"

Nobody answers, however, all of them hide their faces in the food to avoid that prevailing anxiety.

Eren looks at Mikasa and gets worried. It's like witnessing hopelessly the uninterrupted tick tocking of a bomb inside a bird cage, threatening to blow the whole manor up.

* * *

Sasha stomps in the kitchen, being careful not to close the door loudly.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Kitchen utensils fall uproariously in the sink, showing a poorly repressed rage. The annoyed chef leans on the marble counter, his veins popping up below his outraged shaking skin. Sasha is visibly nervous, fear flooding her vocal chords, preventing her from speaking as clearly as she wants.

"Nikolo, what are you doing?"

"Enlighten me, Sasha".

She gulps. His voice tone has frozen her senses chillingly.

"About?"

"Tell me WHAT THE FUCK is that bastard doing here. You brought him here on purpose, didn't you? Do you even know him? There's no way that piece of shit can eat my food. That asshole tried to stick his nose into our relationship!"

"Nikolo, please, calm down and let's talk about it but lower your voice, okay? Everybody's listening out there!"

"Fuck it, answer me first!" a raw blow rebounds in the walls, for his fists have met the marble and this startles the girl, making her jump. He approaches her, frightening "This is what you've become: a liar! You've been hiding things from me. Is it that you're dating him too?"

"What? I didn't… Listen, I didn't bring him here. He works for my uncle and that's why he's here. But please, for God's sake, calm dow-

"How can you ask me to calm down? You're not clear to me, to me, your fucking boyfriend, Sasha. And you want me to calm the fuck down? I don't believe you, not even an ounce. I don't believe Mr. Ackerman hired that damn tramp just after what he did to us…"

The chef shuts up.

Sasha's fingers writhe in anxiety as an unconscious habit caused by a stressing situation. Her honey-colored eyes wobble all over the place chasing after Nikolo's steps, who wanders around thoughtfully.

"I forbid you from talking to him", he suddenly warns her, stopping in front of her as his index points right to her face "He's a bad influence to you and I'm sure he only wants to separate us"

"Nikolo, don't be ridiculous. I didn't even know he…"

"Protecting you is ridiculous? Protecting my girlfriend from perverts is ridiculous? Are you stupid? Blind?"

"You are the stupid one!" Sasha retorts, exploding. Her voice is low, however, this doesn't prevent Nikolo from listening to her outrage "You never listen and you never understand me and I'm sick of it! Remember that you wouldn't have this job if I wouldn't have talked to my uncle and-

Sasha stops; Nikolo's hand has grabbed hers strongly, forcing her to shut her mouth. His other hand raises, gripping tightly on the girl's cheeks like forceps, causing her a sharp pain, damaging her tongue. Threatening, he increases the strength in his fingers.

"What did you just say?"

"Nik- Nikolo, let go, please".

"Don't you dare to-

The door creaks when opened and Nikolo finally lets go of her. Sasha pants, relieved, hurt; in a blink of an eye she must get rid of the burning pain in her cheeks and hold her tears back to hide them from the person that is about to enter the kitchen. In a blink of an eye, Nikolo has left the room, leaving her alone, turning his back on her so as not to be caught.

In a blink of an eye, Sasha gulps her grief down, her back to the door.

"I'm sorry, Sasha. We were deciding what to eat for dessert so I came to tell the chef, but I think I'll have to wait. What do you think? We just need your vote to know whether Tiramisu or chocolate Mousse. Would you tell me? We need… Sasha?"

"Y-yeah", she answers, her voice broken, clearing her throat to repeat one single syllable "Whatever you choose it's okay to me, Armin".

"Sasha?", Armin's hand closes softly around her shoulder and his fingers feel warm, comforting, lenient. A raw contrast between the man who just threatened her a few seconds ago and this new presence full of gentleness and serenity "Sasha, is something wrong?"

"No. Of course not", she turns to look at him and a forced smile is drawn on her lips. A soulless facade, painfully uncomfortable, a faked expression that threatens to crumble any time away, leaving her vulnerable. But Sasha won't allow it. She's stronger than that.

"Sure?"

No.

"Yes".

"Sasha, what's this?", Armin rubs with his fingers the scarlet spot Nikolo has left in her cheeks and she backs off like a scared child, victim of a throbbing pain. Concern fills Armin's eyes and it's so obvious that she has to ignore the need in her guts of melting in his arms to feel, once again, that yesteryear peace that made her feel at ease so many times when they were children. The kind of peace that only Armin knew how to give.

But this won't be possible.

You're not kids anymore, Sasha.

What would your friend think if he finds out what's going on between your boyfriend and you?

"It's nothing. Silly me, I was just walking and I bumped into the door when entering", Sasha explains, the same fake smile on her lips. Armin studies, analyzes her and keeps his mouth shut, deciding it's better not to compel her to say more.

But he knows.

He knows about the chef, he knows Sasha won't say a thing, and he can guess what just happened, but he's silent.

And his hands ball in fists, and he wishes he could wrap her in his arms and give her a glimpse of that yesteryear peace that made her feel at ease so many times when they were children.

But he's hopeless, and there's nothing he can do for her. At least not now.

The door is opened once more, and Armin's fingers let go of the face of the golden-eyed girl.

"Kids, what are you doing here? Mr. Ackerman is asking for you two and I think you're both late. Where's Nikolo with the entrees? Sasha, what's wrong?"

Mrs. Braus doesn't make pauses. Her hands stretch out to reach her kid, but the girl vanishes from her touch.

"I'm sorry, mom. I'll go back to the dining room".

Her frame disappears behind the door, leaving just a swinging that will fade later. Armin sighs, one hand in his pockets, drinking a glass of water.

"I think Sasha just wanted to eat something, Tita. You know how she is".

Well, that's a good explanation. His tita nods, but she's frowning, though. Armin knows she didn't buy it.

That's when Nikolo makes his reappearance, finding Armin's glare fixed in him when he's back in the kitchen.

"Nikolo, hurry up. You can't delay with the food, that's not right".

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I'll take the entrees to the table", he says and makes a quick bow before the blonde man's persistent glance, hiding his confusion. But Armin ignores him and leaves, hands still in pockets. The smell of his expensive Faubourg 24 perfume floats in the air and Nikolo, jealous, hates him until he's out of sight.

But there's nothing he hates more than the catlike looking, green-eyed man that sits today next to his boss. The talk with Sasha is not over yet, and she will have to explain a few things to him whenever they meet again.

As for Armin, and when he's back to the table, he decides he hates someone, for the first time in his life.

He hates someone. He hates this man, the chef, he truly hates him, with all his guts.

* * *

Thoughts wander in his mind like whirlwinds, and this shakes his nerves so hard he'd rather remain silent, as quiet as a cornered mouse.

Since he was a kid, Armin Arlert was the quiet kind of child, the kind of child who, no matter how troubled he could be, he'd rather choke back his feelings, especially if it's not the right time to let them out; especially, if he's among a group of people who could notice his uneasiness.

Nevertheless, his face has never been as quiet as his tongue and, no matter how much he tries to hide it, his best friend knows him so well she can perfectly guess the meaning under his expressions.

"Armin?"

Mikasa's voice gets him out of his trance. Feelings fill him up, slowly gobbling up all of him: his helplessness, frustration, his fearfulness… His hate towards a single human being and the pain he feels seeing Sasha's suffering. Armin's blue eyes lift up to his best friend, with Sasha in the middle of them both.

She's been silent, too, since they were back from the chef's private kitchen.

"Yeah?"

"What's wrong with you guys? Is everything alright? Either of you have had a bite since you were back".

All eyes land on them, especially on Armin. Kurt looks worried, but confused, as well; Eren is interested in knowing what happened, very discreetly, though. Regarding Traute… Well, she doesn't really care.

"Huh? Y-Yeah. It's alright", he answers right away, breathing out a shy and brief smile. Sasha nods, having a bite of canape, avoiding more questions.

Smart girl, Eren thinks of her. He knows something is going wrong; however, it's not right to get his nose into other people's business.

"Armin, Mikasa is right. It's not so you to be this quiet. I thought you kids would be happy, talky. This is a night to celebrate, isn't it, Sasha?"

"It is, Uncle."

"Well, we already know you two wanted to catch us by surprise", Kurt goes on, talking to the newcomers "I know you did good at school, but I wanna know what you will do from now on that school is over, what college will you two attend. We haven't had time to talk about that and I think this is the right moment. What about you, Armin? Do you already know what to study?"

With that same smile on his lips, Armin answers.

"Actually, I'm not planning to enroll in college yet, Uncle".

Everybody listens. Traute texts something in her phone for a while, ignoring the triviality of the conversation.

"Explain yourself, son".

"Well, I've been thinking about moving out. I think it's time to have my own space, even though I'm deeply thankful for all the years you had me here, Uncle; but I'm an adult now and I want to fend for myself. Besides, I'd like to learn how to manage my parents' shares in the Ackerman company now that you're not my legal guardian anymore, and it would be great to work with and learn from you".

Kurt laughs, proud, wiping his mouth after having a mouthful.

"Son, you have my whole blessing for whatever you want to do, as long as it's beneficial for you. Your parents and grandfather would be as proud of you as I am. I always knew you'd be something wonderful of your life with that big brain of yours. And you, Mikasa, did you know about this?"

"Of course, Dad".

Eren's attention lands on Mikasa. He smiles when she bits her lower lip, for it seems that to be in the spotlight makes her feel overwhelmed.

Nobody notices that, in the same instant, Sasha gulps down all her wine. Maybe this would disinhibit her brain cells and help her to calm the tension inside her. Her cheeks still hurt, and only Armin can notice the dreadful marks on them. Mikasa doesn't know the backgrounds, but she's intuitive enough to guess what happened back in the kitchen.

Kurt, however, seems to be pretty happy to have his whole family reunited. For him, nothing could be better than this.

"What about you Eren? You haven't had a bite either. Go ahead, eat something."

Before the guy can answer, the chef's back to the table. A maid is with him to serve the entrees, plate by plate: tuna carpaccio with raspberry caviar.

Everybody seems to know what's eating but him.

What kind of food is this? Don't they have something… bigger? To be rich, those meals are pretty small.

Ah, Carla. He misses his mama's food so much. Eren sighs to himself.

"Uh…", Eren stutters. This time, gray eyes are on him "I think I've never tried this… dish before, sir. I'm afraid I may be allergic to this."

Kurt cheers him up with a gentle pat on his back.

"Come on, it's just a bite. Our distinguished chef will tell us what are the ingredients so we will know there's nothing to be afraid of. Nikolo, tell us, please."

This time, the chef doesn't look at Sasha. Neither she to him. Due to his job and not to raise any suspicions, Nikolo has to make an effort to answer his boss' question without showing his nuisance.

"Tuna, cream cheese, some spices and olives. Is that all, sir?"

"Yes, kid", averting his attention to his guest, Kurt continues "See? Nothing to worry about. Mikasa, sweetheart, you have the gift to make people trust you, so tell him he can eat without a care."

Mikasa swallows hard.

Nikolo wants Eren to choke on his food. And he's truly disappointed when this doesn't happen. But he can't wait for it; his place is in the kitchen.

"Ummm… I guess you can. This is really delicious."

Eren doesn't know why, but the next second he's eating.

This girl's voice should have any kind of… magic? Come on, Eren, you're raving.

No, he's not.

Or is he?

Mikasa's cheeks light with a little scarlet tinge, and she must quickly hide her face in the dish she's about to eat.

However, no matter how good this can be, Eren doesn't stop missing his mama's food.

"Tell me, sweetpea, what will you do?", Kurt asks his daughter, a few minutes later. The main course has been served and, while nobody seems to be troubled with the cutlery, Eren struggles to follow suit, an exhausting attempt to go unnoticed, hiding the fact he has no fucking idea of how or which spoon or fork he should use on that strange dish that only God knows what's made of. But he isn't willing to uncover his ignorance.

He won't allow Traute to put him to shame.

"Me?"

The sound of the forks on the dishes drowns Mikasa's voice a bit. She struggles for not feeling unsettled, even though she feels relieved that her stepmother is lost in her cellphone and not in listening to her. All of them are looking at her, except Sasha. And it's the green fire in the eyes of this new acquaintance that made her unconsciously tremble.

Eren's gaze is captivatingly piercing.

"Yes, you. We already know Armin will leave this home and will work with us. What will you do?"

"Uh… I haven't decided what I will study, papa. But I think I'll get a job, too. At least while I decide what and where to study and where."

Kurt clears his throat, sipping a drink of wine.

"Well, I'm not against it. You know you can come with me so you can be along with Armin, Sasha and Eren, too."

"No", Mikasa warns him, subtly wiping her lips with the napkin "I wanna do it by myself, dad. Just like Armin, fend for myself and get a job on my own."

"My sweetpea, I can totally understand what you want. But getting a job worthy of you will be difficult without any experience."

"Work?"

It's Traute the one who interrupts the conversation.

Her voice is so thunderous and powerful she alarms the guests. Everyone's looking at her now, feeling how a new knot of tension sets up in their stomachs when seeing the defiant expression in the woman's wolf-like eyes.

"That's what she said. She wants to work", Kurt is the only one who answers. The only one who didn't notice that threatening tone in his wife's voice.

"And what will she work as? Waitress? You think this fits for our family, Mikasa? Sasha could do it if she wants. People like her can take any job. But not you, not with the surname you're carrying with. Sasha can even be a servant, just like her parents, but not you. We won't be anybody's laughingstock."

Sasha's eyes water. She's not sure she can handle a single more humiliation tonight. Armin's hands ball into fists, not believing his ears, still processing what he just heard. Eren gulps. He can't believe his ears either, for this is too much for a single person to bear.

For a second he wishes he could protect again the most vulnerable person among them, this girl that now hides her face from the others to save her tears. She's not sure she can mend herself, for all those affronts have left a void in her chest, the kind of void that only can be filled after running miles and crying rivers.

But she can't.

Mikasa's blood boils in her veins. Nobody, absolutely nobody, not even the woman who raised her is allowed to outrage her best friend this cruelly and live to tell the tale.

Once more, she curses the day her father decided to marry this evil of a woman.

"I'm sorry to tell you, Traute, that unless you haven't married my dad, you could easily have ended up as one of those waitresses you're talking about. Or something worse. Your opinion on my decisions is irrelevant."

A raw blow seems to stop time. The tick-tock of the pendulum clock can't be heard anymore, and the only thing that reverberates above those present is the noise caused by a hand that crashes against a face.

Traute's hand lowers, and Mikasa's fingers travel to where she has been slapped. Her face feels like burning, as so her pride. All of them have seen it, everybody remains motionless, confounded, waiting for time to go back so they could prevent this scene from happening.

But that's impossible.

Nobody knows what to do. Not Armin, not Sasha, neither Kurt. Let alone Eren.

When gray eyes meet his, his heart stops pounding. Shame doesn't let him think clearly, however, he can watch the whole scene in slow motion, building up painfully in front of his eyes.

Armin stands up, holding Mikasa's hand. With her other hand on her cheek and her eyes on her father, she pants, outraged, hurt, knowing that he'd rather, as always, ignore this humiliation. Her face reddens, victim of rage and frustration. Sasha's still downcast, crying. And Eren…

Eren doesn't know what to do yet.

He has witnessed hell on Earth.

"Insolent brat. All those years I sent you abroad taught you nothing? Didn't you learn shit, Mikasa? Look what you've done! Look what you made me do to you!"

The girl doesn't answer, she doesn't even move an inch. Her gray eyes moisten with tears of a scorching and poisonous fury that roll down her cheeks, making Traute know that she has won. The air is dense, sharp, and carries within darts of an unbearable resentment and injustice. Mikasa shudders, but she knows well that it is impossible to rebel.

Once again, after so many years, Dad's still silent. After so many years, Dad will do nothing.

Kurt doesn't look at her.

Mikasa looks away from him, as so from Eren.

Fate has an odd and fickle way to cross two persons' paths.

"I should never come back to this shitty home."

Right before Sasha can hold her friend's hand, Mikasa disappears from the dining room. Traces of her broken pride are left behind as she walks, feeding Traute's triumph, lessening the crumbs of a family formerly shattered. Her Stuart Weitzman heeled sandals echo while stomping on the marbled stairs and Sasha follows her, calling her name with a broken voice and no answer, being drowned by the squealing of the sole of her sneakers against the floor when she climbs as fasts as she can, both of them disappearing behind a door that won't be opened again that night. Armin stares at them as they go up, hopeless, until the girls are out of sight and he's left alone, finding Eren's eyes as his only consolation in the middle of this ignominious abyss, where an empty grief would be the end of the evening out.

When the chef is back with the desserts, there are only two people left in the room. Traute snorts in annoyance. Her husband remains silent.

"It was about time", she says, tasting her dessert with no delay. Kurt glares at her and shakes his head, incensed.

"The day you'll want to get your daughter's love back, will be too late, Traute", it's the only thing Kurt Ackerman dares to pronounce. She pants, looking displeased.

"And you really believe this girl loves me, Kurt? Didn't you see how she talked to me?", Traute leaves her dessert aside, her voice ripping apart, her pupils moistening. Crying has always been an effective antidote against her husband's worries "She hates me. I thought everything was going to be different today. That her return would bring us happiness and we'd stop arguing like we used to do; but I was wrong… So wrong", the woman sobs "I've raised her as my own, I've dedicated to her the best years of my life, and look how she treats me in front of everyone as soon as she's back. Don't you even think I deserve respect? Don't you think I deserve some consideration?"

His wife's tears touch even the last of his nerves; and although he's torn between the love for his daughter and his partner's apparent susceptibility, he can't help feel dejected before the face of this crying woman.

How could he blame her? Isn't she right?

Kurt Ackerman is too naïve to notice any trace of iniquity in his loved ones. And, this time, Traute won't be the exception.

So he silences his conscience, the one that, deep inside, tells him that nothing was his daughter's fault. Because his wife is crying; just look at her: she's just a victim of circumstances.

"You shouldn't have said that, Traute".

"I shouldn't have said what? What the hell are you talking about, Kurt?", the woman's intermittent words are like daggers in her husband's chest. Armin, who is listening to it all in the corridor outside the dining room, struggles with himself and the rage that makes his hands tremble. He wishes he could go back in time and sit around that table; to go back in time and avoid Sasha from going to the kitchen so he can protect her… Or even better: go back in time to prevent himself from coming home. And when a pair of salty drops roll down his face and fall on the floor, he knows this is a helpless cry in its liquid form, and the trembling in his body is just the silent rebellion before something he can't change.

"You shouldn't have said that to Sasha. She's just a girl and you hurt her. She's my niece, Traute. You know I've never made any differences between her and Mikasa", Mr. Ackerman mumbles. Armin knows that, just as him, Kurt is praying, pleading God that the Braus didn't hear a thing of what happened back in the dining room.

"I can't believe this!", Traute's weeping increases melodramatically. Walls seem to be ripping apart along with her throat as they save her cries within them "Now you're siding with the housekeeper's daughter! This can't be happening", she sobs "Not my own husband. You can't do this to me, Kurt. How can I trust you, if you never stand up for me?"

"But, love…"

"No. Don't say that word. Nothing's gonna change that you just hurt me. I'm leaving. I can't look at you for the rest of this night."

Powerful stomps get close to the corridor, and when Armin looks up, Traute is already walking away to the Great Room that leads to the hall. Mr. Ackerman runs after her, but he stops when finding Armin's inquiring gaze, which silently judges him. When he reacts and his steps take him to the main porch, it's already too late: his wife is gone, driving away from home in her BMW 8 series, and the manor gates can be heard when opened and closed again, letting him know she left. Desperate, distressed, Kurt takes his hands to his head, wondering where he did wrong, for the whole world fell over his shoulders in just one night.

No matter how many lights illuminate his vast dwelling, darkness has attached to him, and he doesn't know how to get rid of it anymore.

* * *

"Dude, I think I gotta get going…"

When Eren speaks, Armin's eyes fall on him. Before answering, the blonde boy wipes away from his face the last traces of liquid sadness and walks to him, getting out of his hiding place in a corner of the Great Room, combing his hair with his hand.

"I'm sorry you had to witness all of this, man. I'm sorry you have to go without saying goodbye to my Uncle".

Eren smiles sadly.

"I dunno what to say, bro. But no judging, you know. I guess… Every family has its problems. This one is not the exception."

"Of course we aren't."

Both of them sigh. For the two seconds they stand silent, Eren decides to offer his hand to shake it. Armin is hesitant, but he does it anyway.

"Thanks for all, er…"

"Armin."

"Armin. I'm sorry, I forgot."

"No big deal. It's a shame that everything went straight to hell tonight. We had a shitty dinner time."

"Well, not everything. Half of the food was good. The jelly was good."

"Jelly?", Armin thinks for a second, forgetting his permanent sorrow "Oh. You mean the raspberry caviar".

Eren goes slightly pale. He has no fucking idea of what this rich, Bambi-eyed guy is talking about.

"Whooooa-kay, I guess it was", he answers, looking down to his wristwatch. "Do you know where I could find a good burger here? I'm craving for one."

Armin smiles sidelong when he notices the guy is patting his stomach and wincing in his evident hunger. So he opens his mouth, about to suggest one of those restaurants he's used to frequent, but something tells him that this Eren guy is not that kind of person.

"Burger King. Fifteen minutes from here."

"Thanks", Eren smiles warmly and, before leaving, he looks up to the first balcony from the hall, mumbling something to himself "Armin, take care of your girls. They need you."

"I know."

"Bye. See ya."

"See you."

They part ways. The blonde, Bambi-eyed guy goes upstairs, and Eren laughs to himself when he pictures Armin in his mind as a young padawan who wouldn't have hesitated in beheading Traute with his lightsaber if he had had the chance, but shakes his head, for this is just a figment of his wandering mind. This is not a good time for laughing, but at least he just met a nice buddy and he's about to finally fill his stomach with a much-longed-for burger.

Before leaving the Ackerman manor, his phone buzzes with a text message. It's Carla's. And the boy feels relieved, as if his mother's words bring with them the calm he was waiting for.

But the main door is opened before he reaches it, and the shape that crosses the doorstep freezes him halfway.

Eren has seen his father's ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> N.A: Sorry for the delay. Translating takes a lot of time. Hope you like this chapter and looking forward to seeing your reviews. Thanks for reading.


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